Dark Reflection
by N-esque
Summary: After a breif but terrifying encounter with a pre-Shibusen Crona, Lana becomes infected with black blood and starts to discover abilities that she didn't know she had. But before long she starts to realize she has less control over herself.
1. Prologue: Lana

The first thing I noticed was that kid with the pink-or-purple hair. Girl or boy, it was about my age, however old that was. It was a few moments before the crowds began to assemble. My mother and I had been among the first to stumble upon the scene, even if I was probably the last to catch on to what really happened. We may not have noticed, except the couple of people who had gotten there before us were making such a commotion. It was really dark out, though it wasn't all that late. The rain wasn't coming down really hard, but it wasn't exactly light and the clouds were really thick. The ground was dark, soaked with water, and puddles were appearing everywhere. Maybe that's why it took me so long to notice the blood.

But, like I said, at first I just noticed the kid who might be a boy or a girl. For convenience's sake, if I had to assign a pronoun, I'd go with 'he' only because I sort of had this preconceived notion of boys being more violent. He was holding a sword. A sword! Who the hell carries a sword around? I don't even think they still used those a century ago. It was weird too, black and stripy with a marking that looked like lips. A sword with lips! Not only that, but it struck me as odd that someone could be the centre of such a commotion and look like they didn't even notice someone else was there. He just stood there, eyes only half open and glued to the ground. People were shouting too.

"Hey kid, what is this?"

"Do you know what happened here?"

"What the hell is wrong with you boy?"

"Oh my god, I know that kid!"

"You know this little freak?"

"No, not her… That one…" The woman who said this was pointing to the ground, near the kid's feet. I had noticed something was there, but didn't think _what _was important. Until I saw what, that is. That one. That is, that kid. A teenager, probably 17 or 18. Definitely older than me, so older than the purple-haired kid too. He looked strong, like he could easily overpower that kid who happened to be skinnier than anyone I had ever seen before. He was the one the lady was talking about. He was just laying there. Him and the five other, slightly older-looking hims. All five soaked in what I was only beginning to realize was not just rain water.

It was then that I started to realize that people were gathering around this kid for a reason. Because something had obviously happened, and these guys had died. I think they were part of some kind of gang, looked like it. I told myself this as if it should make things better. It didn't. The kid looked so pitiful, I was looking for some way to justify defending him, but I couldn't find it. It occurred to me that this might have been self-defence gone wrong, but that was a sword not a pocket knife. As if all of this wasn't enough to attract a crowd, I then heard that voice. The really screechy one.

"Crona!" it shouted in a sort of angry way, "We weren't supposed to attract this kind of attention. Medusa doesn't want things to spread around yet! If you keep up this crap I'm going to hold your eyelids open whenever you try to go to sleep!" This voice. It was impossible but I could swear the lips on that sword had moved.

Anyway, it made the kid's, well Crona's, eyes leave the pavement at last. While he seemed to take no notice of the people around him still, he definitely took notice of the sword that could talk. "What?" Crona gasped, sounding really horrified, "But if you do that I won't get any sleep at all! I don't know how to deal with not sleeping!" It sounded really desperate, like a plea. Would have made you feel sorry for the kid if it weren't for…

I guess I had forgotten about the scene in my moment of confusion at the sword that could talk, because the reality of the situation hit me again with a fresh wave and really sunk in this time. This was murder in cold blood, without remorse. I made a noise I didn't think I was capable of making. It was a sort of squeaky gasp, a really girly sound. I didn't startle easily, maybe that's why I thought it sounded strange coming from me. It wasn't really a noise that would sound out of place to someone else though, especially among all of the much louder mumbling and shouting going on. That's why is was sort of funny that Crona finally looked up when I gasped. His head sort of turned is my direction, then he started looking around with wide eyes that said _Woah, when did all these people get here?_

"So many people," it was sort of like a whisper, but it was pretty audible, "I've never been around this many people at once before. How do I deal with it?"

"What do you think, idiot?" the sword screeched. It wasn't very friendly, this sword. Everything it said to its companion was a threat or an insult. My own thoughts seemed crazy to me. How could a sword be unfriendly? "What else can you do?" the sword screeched, "Just kill them."

That was when I stopped wanting to find some excuse, some reason to defend Crona. Two simple words "kill them" and this whole person changed. There was this weird smile he got, it was creepy and unnatural. This unconfident person suddenly seemed like they thought the whole world was a game. "Oh, is that all?" came the voice that wasn't really a whisper, "If that's all I have to do it'll be fine, I think."

_How could somebody be like that?_ I remember thinking, _That kind of attitude… _"I hate it." I hadn't intended to say that last bit out loud. It was a really weird thing to say, in any situation, just like that. But it was true. I hated this person standing in front of me. Such a person shouldn't exist, someone who acted like the world was a terrible place then cheered right up at the thought of killing. Her eyes turned back to me, and I regretted the words I had said without meaning to. Why was my small voice so audible to him? Maybe I just had a tendency to say weird things, and at the wrong place and time.

"Hate?" he asked, and my blood turned to ice. He was talking to me now, this unfeeling killer. At the time, it was the most horrifying thing I had ever experienced. "You can't just throw around words like that. You don't know what hate really is." I was going to respond to this, ask him what she thought it meant to hate or something cheesy like that because frankly I was a bit insulted, but I noticed a disturbance at the other side of the crowd. Someone was moving up quickly. You could tell when he made it to the front, he knew those guys. Crona was still looking at me. He didn't notice a whole lot, it seemed. The guy got really mad. Then I noticed he had a knife.

It seemed to be over all at once. The guy screamed in rage and just ran right at Crona. It only took him a few moments to get the knife in front of the kid's throat, and slash it in a way that made you think he's done that sort of thing before. It was a little comforting after all, knowing the guys that had died were this kind of person. That was a killing blow for sure, blood was dripping from Crona's neck. We just kind of waited for her to drop to the ground with the rest of them.

She didn't.

It was weird, but you could tell the blood had already stopped. She had this big freaking gash in her throat and she wasn't dead yet but she wasn't bleeding anymore either. She had bled for like a second. That wasn't a really small amount, it was a throat wound after all. But not a fatal amount, not even close. Just enough to tell against the white collar of his dress, or whatever it was, that the blood wasn't normal. It was too dark.

"You should be dead right now," screeched the sword, "but you aren't, all because of me. I hardened the blood for you. Why haven't you thanked me yet?"

"Thank you," he said, but it seemed kind of automatic, habitual. He was still looking at me. "Look," he muttered, "My blood. It's black. I'm sure you didn't know." That was the last thing he said to me. He looked away, swung up the sword, and the guy was dead. Really dead I mean, no tricks with this guy. His blood poured out, red.

It had taken more than I expected to set off the crowd. I think they only hesitated so long because they were scared, but that finally did it. Eight people or so all charged right for her. There was a flash of movement or whatever, and three of them were dead already. The other five had minor wounds. It was crazy. Another swing, the three paying attention dodged. The other two weren't so lucky. Now there was a panic. People were running around, looking for family members. Some hesitated, not sure if they should run or fight. There was a lot of shoving from people who weren't really going anywhere, just trying to do something.

I just kind of stood there, cringing from the people pushing me around. I'd never seen anyone die before, at that point. You would think the terror building inside me would win out completely, but it didn't. I was mesmerized, transfixed on the area above the recently dead bodies. There was something there. Some sort of distortion in the air above each one of them. They were intriguing. Some instinct inside me stirred. Crona had moved away from that first guy, the one with the knife. I moved forward, kind of careful, hesitant. My hand was outstretched because I felt a kind of pull. The distortion, I just wanted to touch it.

I stood in front of it now. I stretched my arm out farther, and my fingers grazed _something _that was there and not there at the same time. It wasn't texture that I felt. There was no substance there. It was only… awful. That feeling, I couldn't explain it. Suddenly I almost thanked Crona for killing this man. I might have stayed there, hypnotized by my disgust. But Crona muttered something I didn't fully hear, and the sword screeched again a little differently. The distortion was gone, just like that, leaving me dazed and confused.

I could see now that the original blind shock was wearing off of the people. The were going at him sensibly now. Jumping out of the way, distracting him from one end. One kid, who obviously had some kind of death wish, ran right at him. He got impaled in the worst way, of course, but a couple of older guys saw their opportunity. Crona was distracted and off balance. They jumped in and landed some punches that sent him flying one way, and his sword the other. That had to be the end of it. The kid was so scrawny, he'd be nothing without his sword.

The two guys were almost beaming, obviously quite proud of their work. The crowds stopped, they were looking hopeful. My surroundings started to become real to me once again as the fear ebbed a little bit. There was a brick wall right up against my back. I guess I had backed toward it over the past minute or so. I hadn't even noticed. I took a shaky breath. Crona still hadn't moved, it was definitely done. A group of about seven people was not standing over him: the two who had took him down, one of their buddies, two older woman, a girl about 18 who went to my school, and a little boy who seemed to be her brother. I wanted a closer look myself. I took a single step forward.

"Bloody needle."

It was funny how that small voice carried. I could hear it as clearly as if I were right beside him. The events of the next few moments were burned into my memory. My head was working in slow motion so simultaneous events seemed to be completely separate. First, I witnessed the death of seven people. Five adults, one teenage girl, and one little boy who couldn't be older than 9. Their cause of death was all the same. Pierced by black spikes that seemed to have come out of thin air, unless you were really paying attention. In that case you knew they came from Crona's blood. The second thing was the distortion that appeared over each one of them. They compelled me and, by association with my earlier experience, repelled me.

Then there was the third thing that happened. Something pushed me back against the wall. At first I thought I was paralysed. I certainly couldn't move an inch. Then I felt the pain and knew otherwise. Two black needles had hit me. One was in my left forearm, close to the wrist. The other was in my abdomen. That one had nearly missed me, it was in my very side, also on the left. I marvelled at my good fortune that it had only cut through skin, and no major organs. There was another about an inch in front of my belly button. The other two must have hit me first, because if they hadn't pushed me back the third would have hit me. I was literally and inch from death.

I tried to ignore the pain, as I searched for Crona in the crowd. He was significantly farther away than she had been before, with hardly anyone in pursuit. I guess it was enough that he was leaving, no point in throwing away more lives for petty revenge. A few seconds passed, and now the bright hair was the only reason I could still make out the awkward dark shape in the distance. My arm felt warm and wet. I moved it in front of my face to examine it, too dazed to realize the mere fact that I could move it should have been important to me. The hole that went right through my home was running thickly with both my own blood and the needle of Crona's that had reverted to liquid again.

I knew that unconsciousness was coming on fast, but there was something that held me over a few moments longer. I had been distracted by my pain longer than I had thought, a lot had happened. The distortions above the newly dead seven were all gone, presumably taken by the sword which I now noticed was gone with its owner. All were gone, except one. Something was still hovering there over the body of the boy, the sword must have missed it. It looked considerably different that the other distortion, mainly because it was taking on colour and a sort of shape. I knew it was the same thing. I was just seeing it better now, though it was still very unclear.

I managed to take the few steps necessary to take hold of the floating blue object before going under and collapsing on the ground. I had lost quite a lot of blood.


	2. My New Sense

It was a short time later that I woke up in the hospital. Let's say a day or two. I felt great. Better than I ever remembered feeling. My first thought was, _The drugs they have me on must really be something._ It was a solid block of time, a good 10-30 minutes, before I remembered the small, ghostly object I had claimed. I guess I just hadn't realized I still had it, figured they would have taken it from me at some point. Then I realized they probably couldn't see it after all. It must be something only clearly visible once you knew what you were looking for.

It was a few more days before I was able to go home, I don't know how many. I had a lot of stitches in five different places. Two places in my left forearm, where the first needle had pierced, two places in my left side where the second one got me, and small spot in the front of my stomach where that third one had apparently sliced me a bit before the other two pushed me back. When I saw that I really realized how lucky I was to be alive. It didn't scare me, that whole time I was in the hospital I just felt great.

When I got home the first thing I did was find the little locked jewellery box I had gotten from some distant aunt one birthday and never used. I put the little blue object inside, locked it, and hid the key as well as I could. It was vitally important that I kept that wonderful thing safe. It wasn't very hard to figure out what it was. This thing I had held for almost a straight week was that little boy's soul. It was kind of funny, since I had never put much stock into that kind of thing. That's not to say I didn't believe in souls. I lived in a crazy religious town, went to church every Sunday and holidays and shit like that. But I had always thought of it as kind of a metaphorical thing.

Yet here was the proof. It was faint, barely visible to my eyes, but it was there. Maybe I would be able to see it more clearly if the visual was what I cared about, but it really didn't matter to me. It was the way it felt. The first soul, the one of that guy with the knife, had made my blood run cold. It made me feel sick, made me ache, and I knew he had been a terrible person anyways so I had stopped caring that he was dead. He deserved it, some of the things he had done. I couldn't explain it, I hadn't felt his life story or anything. But just from touching his raw soul like that I knew so much about him, he had no conscience in a way that I just knew he was not only capable of terrible things, but he would act on them. Maybe Crona was just as bad, but I hadn't felt that so I didn't care.

So I probably would have loved Crona for what he had done. If it weren't for that little boy, I would have. But that boy, he was the polar opposite of that man. I had felt his soul too. I hadn't let go of it for several days. I knew his personality inside and out. He was a child, that's what I felt. Hospitals are boring as hell, but when you're feeling that kind of energy all day you don't give a shit. He was innocent, like all kids were. But more than that, he was a really nice kid. The kind that didn't throw a fit every time he didn't get his way. He had never done anything wrong in is life. And now he was dead. And that's why I hated Crona more ferociously than anything else in the world.

In the long run, I suppose this may have been part of my downfall. Hatred is a powerful thing, and I really did know nothing about it.

*******

It was a Wednesday when I returned to school. It hadn't changed much, no surprise. However, I was a little shocked at what a popular topic the events of the other night had become. I couldn't turn a corner without hear somebody talking in a matter-of-fact tone about what they had witnessed, their friends clinging on to their every word. Crona had become both famous and infamous, although the majority didn't know his name. The closest thing I heard was Corona (like the beer or whatever) by some know-it-all in my grade. I remained safe, only until lunchtime.

The second I sat down at our usual table, I was mobbed by my friends. They didn't even try to hide the smugness about being friends with me. After all, I was probably the only one who had legitimately been there, and everyone knew it. I even had the scars to prove it. Everyone wanted to know. What did the killer really look like? Was it a boy or a girl? Do you know their name? Is it true that no one could hurt them? Are you trying to tell me they used blood for a weapon? …Can I see the scars?

I must admit, I started to get very irritated, another thing that probably hurt me in the grand scheme of things. But the thing was, nobody even asked me if I was okay or anything. Half of these people were more acquaintances that friends in the first place. The worst think was, they all had to touch me. That was overwhelming. I learned the true extent of my power then. It wasn't just the raw souls. Every time a person, touched me I felt something. It was only a glimpse, what they were feeling, their true nature, maybe a passing thought. But it came at me from everywhere, and even then I think I could sense a little of the darkness in each of them

In the end I just couldn't handle it. I ended up going home sick. There were no questions asked.


End file.
